


boundaries

by feline



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: M/M, need more fics where one of the characters has boundaries and the other respects it yo, sexy stuff is mentioned but they just mack it out, smooching without plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-04
Updated: 2013-04-04
Packaged: 2017-12-07 10:38:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/747573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feline/pseuds/feline
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>he looks like he’s in a daze, like you’ve clobbered him over the head, like he can’t believe that this is happening. that you’re the reason he has that look on his face makes you feel really fucking good, and something warm’s curling in your gut. like, you know you’re awesome, but. god damn.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	boundaries

You're alone together at the office when Gavin first kisses you. You have to take him aside (gently, by the hand, leading him to the bathroom), because Ray'd only left to get a drink and this is not something you want him to see.

You shuffle into a stall together and he fumbles to put down the toilet lid as you turn the lock. Neither of you say anything. He sits down and pulls you by the wrist, he touches your face, he kisses you on the mouth.

It's chaste. Neither of you part lips. He pulls away and strokes at the line of your jaw, eyes full of wonder. He looks like he's in a daze, like you've clobbered him over the head, like he can't believe that this is happening. That you're the reason he has that look on his face makes you feel really fucking good, and something warm's curling in your gut. Like, you know you're awesome, but. God damn.

You feel kind of stupid looking at him looking at you, though. You want to say something to make it less awkward ( _Shit, Gavin, did your brain conk out? Fuckin' finally._ ) but the insults die on your tongue. You don't-- you don't want to ruin this. Whatever this is.

Instead you avert your gaze, lower your head and trail kisses down his neck. His hand moves from your face to your hair and he grabs a fistful, gasps as you put your lips to his collarbone, and oh, wow, that makes you warm somewhere lower than your stomach.

He breaks the silence and says, "Bloody hell, Michael," tipping his head back. You say, "Fuck," empathetically, and part your lips against his skin. He bangs his head against the wall. Moron.

The sounds he makes as you lick, bite and kiss at his neck are magnificent and obscene. He's got one hand fisted in your hair and the other trailing up and down your back-- _no reciprocation at all, who would've guessed_ \--but you find yourself very, very turned on. You move back up to his lips. You kiss him and it is not so chaste this time. His lips part. You run your tongue along his bottom lip and the way he shakes and gasps makes you burn.

Your hands were at his shoulders but now they drift lower. You toy with the bottom of his shirt. You softly draw circles on the flat plane of his stomach. You can tell that he likes it by the way he tightens his hold of your hair, pulls you closer, kisses you with renewed vigor.

You explore lower and that's when he tenses up. He pulls away. Your fingers are slipped into the waistband of his jeans when he turns his head and gasps, "Stop."

And, fuck, you do. You remove your hands. You back away until you're flat against the stall door. You think _Fuck, fuck, I did something wrong, god damn motherfucking shit, I royally fucked this up to hell and back--_

He makes a wild grab at you, suddenly in a panic. "No, no, you didn't do anything wrong, Michael, please," and he drags you back. He tries to kiss your mouth but you feel so, so stupid, god damn it, so you turn away. He makes do with kissing your cheek and neck in a frenzy. "I'm sorry, I just-- I just." He presses his face against your neck. You can feel the warmth of his breath. "I don't feel comfortable," he says, "doing, um. That kind of thing." He kisses your neck again and then backs off to judge your expression. He bites his lip. He says, "Please don't be mad."

You let out a breath you didn't even know you were holding. You're _so relieved_. "Gavin, you shithead," you say, and, light-headed and dizzy from the sheer rush, you laugh. "You should have fuckin' said so!"

He starts to splutter, "But I _just did_!" but you shut him up by kissing him. "If I ever do anything you don't want again," you say, after breaking apart, "punch me in the face."

He laughs and you know he's going to abuse that, _God_ will he abuse that, but right now you could not care less. You are still so acutely aware of how turned on you are--how much you would like to get his pants off (and how much you'd like to get _your_ pants off, how much you'd like your dick in his mouth)--but, fuck, if that's not what he wants, you can live with that. You can take this slow. You have all the time in the world.

He says, "I'm going to punch you right now if you don't kiss me again," so you comply.


End file.
